Winter's End
by KylieKyotie
Summary: Thornton refuses to let Margaret go.


They lay naked, exhausted and sated – in a strange bed, in a faraway town. He went to London and then carried her off. So uncharacteristically brazen for the serious, steadfast man – so rash and unexpected. He knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway. After controlling every detail in his life and putting everything in order around him, all the while taking care of everyone's needs, finally, it was time for a reckoning. He could no longer ignore his desires - his heart. It was a high-water mark - unstoppable and indefensible. They attempted to keep her from him and bind her to another. His anger surged at attempts to prevent their happiness and so he acted in a way that was unpredictable and ultimately, unpreventable. They were meant for each other. It was not the life they were _expected_ to lead, but the one they _had_ to lead.

 _Time and tide wait for no man._

It began with a secret note – followed by a secret meeting. He overwhelmed her. Not forcefully – never that – but with sheer will. He refused to live in a world without her _in_ it. She finally saw him – _really_ saw him and understood the intensity of his feelings. The steady gaze that never left her face. The smallest touch that made her feel more alive. The voice that hummed through her body when he spoke.

 _Still waters run deep._

It compelled her to examine what she couldn't before – what she distanced herself from just to be able to cope. She thought she lost him forever. It was too much to face, realizing too late he was the one. Those buried feelings were dredged up, like a sunken ship. It was simple – they needed each other. Denial was a petty, useless thing. To love or not to love? There was no question. She lived in his heart – and he lived in hers. They laid claim to each other long ago.

The look in his eyes that day jolted her – pulled her out of the dull rote she followed to comply with everyone's demands. To meet expectations of a family concerned with appearances above all else. Form without substance. _Proper obligations_. It was all so numbing, she was just sleepwalking through life. It was not a life. It was a dream, a wisp of nothing. It wasn't even her dream. But _he_ was real and there he stood in front of her. With _that_ look. It pierced through everything and burned away all except the essential. They loved each other. They needed each other. She stood mute in the face of it. One look. Then one kiss. Something sparked deep inside and warmed a still heart. A heart frozen by necessity. On that cold Winter's day when she left him behind and life lost its meaning. White Hell. Death. Loss. Distance. He pulled her out of that desolation. He looked at her and she could feel again – breathe again. Color returned to her cheeks – warmth to her fingertips – a revived heart beat once more.

 _They took to the wind._

In the frenzy of skin and heat, it seemed they were one body – one fire. She could not withstand his ardor – his deep, unrelenting passion. Nor did she want to. She absorbed those flames and returned her own. Briefly, she hesitated, it felt as though they would consume each other, but then she released herself to him. Better to be engulfed in passion than remain aloof – afraid of the heat. She became his. _His_ Margaret. And he – he was _her_ John.

 _Let no man pull them asunder._

A gentle breeze skimmed over them, drying their sweat. The day was warm, not that they noticed in their exploration of each other, but now the light was fading and the air cooled. It was a relief to fevered bodies. Head tucked into his neck, with a hand splayed across a broad, muscular chest, her fingers traced delicate patterns, lulling him with a soothing rhythm and feather-like touch. He ran a calloused hand through long, loose, unbound hair – gently stroking the silken strands – his lips resting on her forehead. This was the stuff daydreams were made of. Earlier musings were a pale specter compared to the satisfaction he felt now – soft, bare skin pressed against his, gentle caresses, and the easy comfort of their closeness. _Completion_. Whatever heartache and disappointment came before was forgotten. This made it all worthwhile – this sublime moment of pure, quiet contentment.

 _I am thine and thou art mine._

She kissed his neck and murmured softly, "They will look for us."

He tightened his embrace protectively, instinctively, knowing he would do anything for her. It was that way almost from the beginning and it would always be thus. Kissing her cheek and running a thumb over soft, full lips, he acknowledged, "Yes, they will. But they will not find us."


End file.
